Shadows in the Blood
by TooDarkPark
Summary: This is my attempt at a more realistic Wow story. It will likely subvert your expectations, but it should still be a world you recognize. Please let me know if you enjoy it and I'll continue the story of a hunter trying to save her niece and her own soul.
1. Chapter 1

They called it Outland. It was supposed to be the refuge of my people. Because of that, I should have felt some connection to the place, but I was as lost as anyone in the dangerous marshes, floating islands, and vast planes of Netherstorm where Mana, the precious substance that fuels all things magic, hung so thick in the air you could feel it on your skin and taste it in your sweat.

We had won the war. At least that's what they told us. As I rode my ragged mount through the Dark Portal, to return to my home, I saw the weariness and pain scarred into the faces of my fellow travelers. Horde or Alliance, it didn't matter on those roads back. No one fought. No one so much as acknowledged the differences. We crossed through the portal and scattered in our own directions, like broken autumn leaves captured in the winds of a coming storm.

My mount, Marah, started staggering when we reached Deadwind Pass. We stopped at the side of the dirt road and I found a small clearing where I could walk with her into the gray forest. I removed my tack and saddle. My black leather saddlebags were a gift from a Dwarven leather worker I met when I first arrived in Outland. I can't remember his name, but I do remember his smile. It seemed as big as his face. It pushed his brown mustache up like a pair of eagle wings and when he laughed the sound of it filled the valley like thunder. It's strange how remembering the good things brings me just as much pain as the bad.

Once the poor animal was stripped of all my burdens, I gave her the last of my water. She drank it greedily. I doubted it was enough. She couldn't tell me with her voice, but her body and eyes said, _I am tired, Verda. I'm more tired than I've ever been. I can feel a sleep coming over me and it's a sleep unlike any I've known. I'm scared of this sleep_.

I patted her nose and she nuzzled into my chest. I realized then that I was still wearing my mail armor. The designs were ornate and I once had found them inspiring, but now they seemed ridiculous. I shed my chest piece, my helmet, my gloves and bracers. I removed it all until I was left with nothing but my thick under armor garments. I removed them as well until I stood nude. I stretched my sore muscles and rubbed at all the chaffed skin where the armor had dug into my body. A river ran close by, I could have bathed, but I didn't want to leave my mount unprotected in those woods, so I let the cool air flow over my body and imagined the gentle spray of a waterfall cleaning the dirt and grime from the war away.

I searched through my saddlebags until I found a pair of light leather pants and an old tunic. I dressed and studied the pile of armor. I found it hard to believe I once relied on such things to survive. Here now, close to the trees and the sound of the running river, I once again felt close to the real world.

Marah fell shortly before dusk. I sat with her huge head in my lap and patted her long face. I whispered for her to sleep. Her eyes watched me, but I couldn't tell what she was thinking. I'm not sure how long it took, but the forest was dark and all the insect songs of night filled the air. She was as still as a sleeping child. I probably should have cut her throat to make it faster, but the smell of blood would have attracted wolves or worse. I cried, but I'm not sure now if I cried for my horse or everything else I had lost.

Soon the smell of death would tell the great vultures who circled the skies of Deadwind Pass that it was their time to do their job. I held no animosity toward the birds. I understand the forest, probably better than the great druids of the old world who worshiped it like a god, because I knew it wasn't a god. It lived, like me; it had an order, an agreement with existence, and a set of rules that were both harsh and unyielding. I understood these rules, but Marah had been my friend. I would give her one night of undisturbed slumber before surrendering her to the scavengers and the natural order of the world.

Morning came and I hadn't slept, but I was used to that by now. A constant battle with an unending army of demons quickly cured me of a need for real rest. After a few months, I moved beyond exhaustion and into a state of waking sleep. The alchemists just kept giving me more chemicals to keep the adrenaline flowing. The weapons, the armor, even the presence of other soldiers in the battle fueled my body, mind, and spirit with an unending supply of resilience. When I wasn't fighting, I couldn't relax my guard, because the demons invaded my dreams. I hadn't moved from that state of being; that manic place where the energy continued to push me, but now toward my home instead of battle.

Shortly after sunrise everything I had decided to keep with me was carefully packed in my saddlebag. My remaining armor, saddle, and tack, I buried far from Marah's body. One object I debated leaving behind was an odd bracer I'd found while clearing a demon stronghold near the Stormspire. It glowed with a sickening green, like the gas that sometimes flows skyward from a putrid swamp, and I hadn't dared to try it on. I carried it wrapped in thick cloth, because just touching it made my bones ache and my stomach to turn. I knew such an item would be of interest to my sister, Lorana, a priestess who worked in the Cathedral district of Stormwind City. I hoped they could find some way to use it for good, or at least properly dispose of the wretched thing.

I remained off the main road to Darkshire, but followed it closely. Moving silently and concealing as much of my tracks as possible was a slow way to travel, but in my experience, without a fast mount, it was the safest. After a few leagues, I did begin to feel the first stirrings of a curious presence. I would stop to observe and it would stop to observe. I would continue on slowly and after a few moments it would catch up. The presence seemed to be deeper in the forest, also covering its tracks and attempting to remain silent. I sensed no menace from this presence. Whatever it was, it wasn't hunting me, but like most creatures of the woods, I didn't like being the one stalked, so I turned my attention from the road to my new traveling companion. I moved in deeper toward the place where I felt the presence most strongly. I stopped and found a spot to camouflage myself and wait. It wasn't long before I saw a great black wolf with yellow glowing eyes. I pulled an arrow from my quiver and knocked it to my bow. The animal caught my movement and turned its head toward me.

It knew I was there. In that still moment we caught eyes. One predator to another. Chances were, it had never seen my kind before. I had horns and hooves like a goat, a tail like a cat, but a body like a woman. It sniffed the air, but it received no whiff of fear from me. My body said, _I'__m not afraid of you, Brother W__olf. You and I are the same. We are both hunters in this forest_. He turned his ears up higher as though he expected me to speak, but I knew words wouldn't serve me now. Instead, I stood to my full height and with my posture and my attitude said, _See me, Brother W__olf. See how I am strong and powerful. See how I can protect my pack with my skills and my killing tools. See how this forest obeys me. I am a leader and I demand your respect._

The wolf lowered his head and growled. He showed his teeth and moved down low, like he was ready to pounce.

I changed my stance and gaze to look beyond the wolf, to look deeper into the forest, completely ignoring his threat. With my body and presence I said, _I won't acknowledge __you__, Brother Wolf; because I am like this tree. Your threats wash over me like the wind. I am this tree and you are now the wind and all your threats are like the rattling of leaves. I am the mistress. Your threats have shown me you feel fear. You are the servant. I am the strength of the forest__.__ I am the earth and you are the air. I am flesh and now you are spirit._

I could feel the wolf's anger swell like a wave on the ocean and with one leap he meant to bring the entirety of his wrath down on my neck with one strong bite, but I denied him that pleasure. I crouched into a lower position and caught his eyes. Instead of on my neck, he landed at my feet. He held my gaze until his fur settled and his tail dropped between his legs. After only a few moments his ears dropped back and he had to look away. With my hand gestures and body I said, _Now you are mine. We are the same blood now. I __turned__ you__ into__ spirit, but now you're flesh again__, because I will it so__. You may serve me as I wish, and from this service you will find your joy. I am your mistress. I am your everything._

"I believe I will call you, Astra," I said. "After the name of these dark trees that make this forest eternally night."

Astra wagged his tail in approval, and despite his ferocious looks, he was rather sweet and affectionate for a wolf. I hadn't had a hunting companion in many moons. I reached into my saddlebags and tore off a large piece of pork jerky. I took the first bite and chewed it slowly while Astra watched. He licked his teeth, but remained seated while I took a second bite. Showing clearly with my body language that I had eaten my fill, I threw the piece of meat to Astra. He devoured the meal with a single bite. Now that I had his trust I went to work checking him over. With a comb I removed burs and thorns from his coat. I brushed between his claws and examined his teeth. I pressed into his strong muscles and felt his stomach. He was malnourished, but relatively healthy.

"Why, you're just a young pup," I said. "Awfully young to be hunting out here by yourself, brave soul. What happened to your family?"

Astra just wagged his tail, unaware of what I was asking, but knowing these woods even a wolf as powerful as Astra could become prey to more terrible creatures. Rumors were that the dead walked these woods. Other hunters even had tales of a race of wolf-like men who lived deeper in the hills. As I gathered my things to prepare for our journey to Lakeshire, Astra's ears went up in the direction of the road. With my body I asked him what he heard. He cocked his head and I gestured for him to lead me.

He crouched low and found the easiest, quietest path for us to follow through the brush and trees. Within moments we were near the main highway. We remained hidden in the overgrowth and I praised my new companion for his good work with a scratch behind the ears. He alerted again toward the southern end of the road. I heard the wagon before I saw it. Then I heard the singing, in that strange, nasally voice common to the goblin folk whose mercantile culture controlled much of the trade. The wagon was loaded with so many pots, pans, and household materials that it banged and clanged as it progressed down the street. A poor gray donkey with a chipped ear slowly dragged the overburdened wagon over the cobbled road. Seated next to the goblin on the driver's bench was what appeared to be a woman dressed in robes wearing a heavy cloak. I motioned for Astra to stay and stealthily moved to the other side of road.

As the wagon approached, I stepped out onto the path with my bow drawn and an arrow knocked.

"Speak common," I asked.

The goblin pulled up on the reigns and the wagon creaked, groaned, banged and clanged, but did finally come to a stop.

"Of course," he said. "Can I interest you in a new dress? I'm running a special today for highway robbers."

"I'm no thief, merchant," I said as though the word 'merchant' were a curse. "I wish to trade. You do trade, don't you?"

The goblin laughed nervously and said, "Of course, of course, is my skin green, doll? Don't you see the gold stains on my fingertips? It's value for value around here, love. You need new armor, right? You're out here without anything to protect yourself with. You need some leather armor, because I have the best. Need a new bow—," he stopped speaking rather suddenly and examined my bow.

It was no ordinary hunting bow. The bow had once belonged to a demon who fancied himself some sort of prince. Prince of what, I hadn't cared. With enough arrows and sword slashes, even the mightiest of princes will die, and when he did I rummaged his dwellings for anything of value. That's what we did on the front. We picked our weapons and armor off the dead. Oh sure, you could wear the armor and use the weapons supplied by the military, but if you wanted to live longer than a few weeks you learned rather quickly to steal from the recently deceased.

The goblin obviously hadn't expected to run into anyone who could even carry such a weapon, much less wield it deftly, because his whole demeanor changed. I could smell the fear and see the sweat that formed on his brow. These things told me I suddenly had the upper hand in any of our future negotiations.

Just as the goblin realized my origins, I recognized the rider. She wasn't a woman. At least, not anymore. She had been once, probably many years ago, but now she was one of the Forsaken. Her robes told me she was an adept, one of the newer mages still in study, but as I had so clearly illustrated to the goblin, clothes could easily deceive. I aimed the arrow at the undead woman. She looked at me, without a trace of fear in her eyes, and said something in her ghastly language. The sounds of her voice didn't seem to come from her mouth, but from someplace deeper and darker. In my time, I had seen many Forsaken, and every time I was around them I felt nothing but the desire to rid the world of their uncanny existence. I'm sure she felt that hatred from my stare.

The goblin raised his hands in a gesture to try to calm the hostilities, but it was useless, the mage was already attempting to call on some dark powers to grant her a spell that would rid the world of me. It might have even worked if Astra hadn't jumped from the cover of overgrowth and bit deeply into the undead's skull. I quickly fired the arrow into her heart as she screamed out the last words of her spell, but it was no use now. The magic from her curse surrounded her in a reddish purple light. She fell from the wagon with a dry, crackling crunch, like sound of gathered branches hitting the road and Astra shook whatever life animated her corpse from this world.

The goblin's gaze was nothing but furry. He showed his tiny, needle sharp teeth and clinched his fists. I already had an arrow knocked and pointing in his direction.

Through his locked teeth he said, "Please call off the dog."

I watched him a moment more and he repeated, "Please?"

I called Astra. He came and sat beside me, the mage's femur still clutched in his jaws. I scratched him behind the ear to reward him for a job well done. He wagged his tail and watched the goblin closely.

The goblin crawled across the driver's seat and down the other side of the wagon. I moved around the donkey and kept the arrow knocked and pointing in his direction. When I saw him, I wasn't certain what he was doing, but then I realized he was weeping. He was holding the thing's broken body in a tight embrace and rocking her in his arms. He brushed its ghostly hair and seemed to be speaking to it in the Forsaken's tongue. I made Astra drop the femur from his jaws. I returned my arrow to the quiver, holstered my bow over my shoulder, and picked up the femur. I walked to where the goblin sat rocking the dead creature and placed the femur by the corpse. He didn't acknowledge my existence. He just continued rocking it and speaking in the Forsaken's language.

I wanted to feel something then. I wanted to feel anything. I wanted to feel remorse for what I had done. I wanted to feel guilt, but I didn't. I looked at my hands and they still held the marks and scars from where the armor had dug into the skin. I remembered how my hands had looked when I was just a girl. They had been light blue, like the sky. They had been almost creamy, they were so beautiful then, but I didn't even realize it. Now my hands, my arms, my legs, were a garden of swirling scars and indentations made by the very things I had worn to protect me. I wondered then what sort of scars I had inside. What did my soul look like? Was it the pure white light that the priests promised; or had I destroyed that in my journey to become the ideal hunter? Was that light gone? Was I still Draenei?

I looked at Astra and I felt I had more in common with that beast than this poor, weeping goblin. So many nights, trying to catch some rest in a camp surrounded by the demon hordes and the constant sounds of never-ending battle, I had prayed for some peace. Maybe that's what I'd found? I had been reborn with the soul of an animal. Whatever was Draenei in me had died.

I called to Astra and he joined me. We continued on our way to Lakeshire, with the sorrowful songs of the goblin merchant echoing off the dark trees.


	2. Chapter 2

Though it took two days, the walk to Lakeshire was uneventful. Astra and I found more food than we could eat and enough skins and fur for the starter money I would need to retrieve my armor from its temporary keep. I hadn't been to Lakeshire in years and as I stood on the shores of Lake Everstill I could tell that it hadn't changed much. I watched as boats brought nets filled with fish, merchants shouted their wares on the street, and young soldiers marched in their parade armor carrying the Stormwind Army standard. How easily they go about their lives. It's such a contrast to a place like Honor Hold, where the demons rain down from the sky like a summer hail storm.

We hugged the lakeside and I thought we might meet with some violence when we saw a camp of gnolls dining on fresh kill. Their strange laughter and barks were meant to be a threat, but we carried on our trek and weren't bothered by the creatures. Lake Everstill was supposedly guarded by a young drake or a sea monster, I wasn't entirely sure, but on that day I couldn't imagine anything bringing a change to Lakeshire. All I could think of as the smells of that city reached me was sitting at a table and eating a hot meal and then afterwards enjoying an even hotter bath. Maybe, finally, I could actually sleep.

I looked at my hands and they were still shaking. They had been for a few days now. I knew it was the elixirs. My blood now hungered for them. My mind had put a voice to them in my head and that voice was begging me to find an alchemist to help put an end to the nagging pain. Astra whined as I stopped and had to take a deeper breath.

"I'll be fine, Brother Wolf," I said. "A few more days and all traces of this poison will be out of my system."

It was hard to think of something that had kept me alive, something that had given me an edge in every battle, as poison, but I knew enough about my own body to realize that you can't burn a candle twice as bright and expect it to last just as long. I was paying the price now for that edge and my shaking hands, sweating skins, and aching head were the toll.

A queue had formed at the bridge leading to Lakeshire and at its head, guards checked papers and inspected wagons and goods going into the city. Astra and I walked past merchants with wagons full of glassware, cloth, and other trade goods. A dwarf and his young daughter had a wagon full of barrels and I was tempted to see if he would be willing to sell me a small caste of ale, but when I tried to catch his eye to offer the transaction he just looked away. I saw an alchemist dressed in the robes of the Consortium and even he wasn't willing to meet my eye.

I finally decided to approach a group of night elves. I wasn't sure if they were a family, but three of them huddled together closely on the driver's bench of their beautiful, blue and gold wagon. They appeared to be traders of some wealth and carried with them a cart full of beautiful skins and leathers. They were dressed in fine clothing and wore long, dark capes.

I came to the side of the wagon and held up my skins to the male closest to me and said, "Interested in supplementing your stores with a few local pelts?"

"Bug off," he said, not even looking at me.

I couldn't understand the hostility. I looked myself over, and I had to admit that I was a few days ripe from sleeping in the woods, but I still appeared to be far cleaner than most of the humans and dwarves waiting for entrance into the city.

One of the other night elves, a male who appeared to be older than the one I had spoken with, turned and said, "Let me see your goods, Draenei."

I pulled the string of skins from my belt and handed it to the elf. He looked it over and I could tell from his inspection he understood the skinner's art.

"These are well prepared and well preserved," he said. "What did you want for them?"

"Father," the younger male said. "Don't throw our good earnings away on that trash. We won't be able to sell it here."

The father gave his son a condescending look and said, "Open your eyes, boy. The dreanei is a master skinner, and I'm certain she's just looking to earn enough coin to outfit and return to the woods. Before we bought our stock in bulk, this is how we built our stores, from the hands of skilled huntsmen. These skins won't sell here in Lakeshire, but they are a rarity for Ashenvale. We can get four times what we pay for them there, and the hunter knows and understands this. Do you agree, Dreanei?"

I wanted to tell the elder elf that his son couldn't care less about the quality of the skins or how much profit could be made trading them in a far off town. Judging from his body language, he was embarrassed to even be seen in a cart carrying the skins. I wanted to tell him that he didn't have a future merchant in the wagon with him, but a spoiled child who would use his father's hard earned wealth to advance himself socially, manipulate those around him, and eventually lose it all in some goblin get-rich-quick scheme. However, I did want the coin, so I agreed with the elder elf.

The father instructed the elf sitting in the middle, a young female who was likely the daughter, to pay me. She carefully counted out the coins and handed them to me. When her hands touched mine our eyes met. Hers had a warning in them, as well as a slight trace of pity. I thanked the night elf family, placed the coins in my purse, and continued my walk to the back of the queue.

The sun was almost set as I reached the guards. I couldn't believe they had managed to stand in the sun all day in their armor checking wagons and papers. There were eight of them and they all looked exhausted. A young man with brown hair so covered in sweat that it stuck to his scalp called me over and asked for my papers. I showed him the only papers I had, my honorable discharge from the military, my accommodations from Honor Hold, and my accommodations from The Aldor.

The young human looked through my papers and called over a more senior guard. He looked at the papers as well, looked at me, and then came to me and said, "I'm sorry, but we can't allow you entrance."

"What," I asked. "Can't allow me entrance? For what cause?"

The guard said, "Under the orders of Magistrate Solomon, we can't allow your kind here. I'm sorry, it's not my decision."

"My kind," I said with all the indignant I could muster. "'My kind' are allies with your people. 'My kind' have been helping the Alliance since we crashed on your planet. 'My kind' are—"

"No," he said. "I'm not saying dreanei aren't allowed into the city. The Magistrate isn't allowing veterans of the war with the Burning Legion into the city."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," I said. "Why?"

The elder guard motioned for me to step aside and said, "About three days ago a couple of rogues, veterans of the war, came through here and stole everything they could carry. Then yesterday a warrior, also a veteran of the war, showed up, drank all the ale in the Lakeshire Inn, "conscripted" a large group of my men and young boys to go into the canyon to rid us of our orc problem, managed to get them all killed, and returned boasting how he easily survived the whole encounter. I'm sorry, but the Magistrate had enough."

"I have no intention of causing any problems," I said. I just want a hot meal, a hot bath, and a place to sleep tonight. I'm travelling to my sister's house near Stormwind. I don't want any trouble."

"I understand," the guard said, "But trouble seems to follow you people around. All those men presented the same honorable discharges, the same types of accommodations, and I'm sure on the battlefield they served admirably, but they just aren't ready for civilization yet. Take that animal for instance. Do you have a leash for him?"

"He's my hunting companion," I said. "He doesn't wear a leash. We're bonded."

"Yes, and if he perceived that someone was a threat to you, wouldn't he rip their throat out?"

I had to admit that would probably be the case, but I pleaded anyway, "I've come a long way, I have coin, and the wolf will remain in my room."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, but no exceptions. Now there are plenty of places to camp outside town and there are farms where you might be able to find room in a barn, but I cannot allow you across this bridge, and if I see you in town, I will have to arrest you."

"Okay," I said. "I understand." Even though I didn't.

Astra and I visited four farm houses before we found one where the occupants would even open the door to us. It was a tiny place, no more than a large room with a stove and a few beds. Its owner was a hard looking woman with sun cooked skin and deep wrinkles. The home was sparse, but clean. It was clear she had little food, so the three rabbits Astra and I killed on our journey looking for lodging were welcome. She had a daughter who was perhaps ten or eleven summers old who went to work dressing the bunnies like she'd been born with the skill. We made our introductions and I learned her daughter's name was Erin and her name was Linda Jainrose. The name Jainrose seemed familiar to me, but I couldn't quite place it.

I offered to help, but was refused and shown to an old cushioned chair in the corner, promptly brought a weak tea, and told to stay put until dinner was ready. Quite a departure from the day's earlier greeting at the guard post outside the bridge. I loosened the cinching strings on my tunic and removed my leather bracers. The shakes seemed to be gone for the moment, but the aching still raged in my mind. I wondered about the goblin from earlier that day. Was that forsaken mage his lover? I'd never heard of such a thing, but then again, I have seen stranger things. I suppose I should worry about some goblin vendetta. I might step hoof into Booty Bay and find a shiv in my back. From the corner of my eye I saw Erin asking her mother something in whispers and her mother answered in a normal voice, "I don't know, let's ask her."

From over her shoulder, while she chopped some type of brown root vegetable, Linda asked, "Did you serve in the Outland war?"

I worried a little about answering honestly, especially after the behavior of my fellow comrades, but had never been served well by lying, so I told them that I had.

"Did you know my Daddy," Erin asked.

"Maybe," I said. "He fought the Burning Legion?"

"Yes," she said. "He died at the storming of the Black Temple. Were you there?"

The name of that terrible place made my skin crawl, and I hadn't thought about that battle in many, many moons. Illidan, supposed Lord of Outland, had not been prepared for the wrath we would bring down on him and his servants. By the time we had stormed the gates, our anger and lust for blood had been sharpened to a fine edge. Few of us survived that encounter. If it hadn't been for the alchemists' elixirs and the otherworldly weapons and armor of Outland, none of us would have lived that day. That her father even survived to face that battle spoke highly of his skills as a soldier. And then I remembered the name Jainrose.

"Your father was a defender," I said. "His name was Robert. Robert Jainrose."

Her face seemed to light up like a lantern, and she says, "Tell me about him, please. They only tell us he died in the storming of the Black Temple and it's all I know."

Erin's mother dismissed her from the chore of preparing the rest of the rabbits. The girl came and sat crossed legged on the floor in front of me. She eyed my hooves suspiciously, but smiled and laughed with joy when I made them mimic a horse's gallop.

"Your father was what we called a defender. Defenders were part of our front line of defense. You see, defenders are a little bit like living stone walls. They're big, their tough, and they can take a lot of abuse."

"Did my father," she asked. "Did he take a lot of abuse?"

The images of that day played out in my mind as though I were there again. I could smell the strange burning flesh that arcane magic inflicts on its victims. In a few battles we all took that abuse, but the defenders got the worse of it. They had to keep their stance as their flesh melted from their bones from the attacks of Illidan's minions and suffer the pain of having their flesh renewed by our own priests. The defenders turned that torture into a kind of righteous rage that they could then use against their enemies. The rage and hate was so strong that the minions would simply ignore me as massive doses of speed that I took allowed me to fire more arrows than I ever thought possible.

"Your father was an incredibly brave man, little one," I said. "His sacrifice saved many lives and allowed us to defeat a great and terrible evil."

"Some of the boys in town have said that people coming back from the war are crazy and that my father probably had to turn into the very thing he fought," she said. "They say if he had returned home, he would be mean like those other men who came to town and stole and killed."

"Erin," her mother said. "Let's not burden Verda with the nonsense of our small-minded townspeople."

I said, "I knew your father, Erin. He would have returned home and he would have loved you and your mother. War changes people, I won't lie. I'm not the same person now, but I didn't have to turn evil to fight evil. I'm not evil now. Your father wouldn't be either."

The girl smiled up at me, jumped to her feet, and hugged me. It startled me at first, I hadn't been hugged for a long time and I wasn't certain how to react, but when I hugged back I hoped more than anything that I hadn't just lied to the girl. There were things I did in Outland I wasn't proud of. There were secrets I would prefer to take to my grave and far too many acts I justified with the reasoning that we were at war and war calls for doing all that is necessary to stop the evil and protect the innocent. I still worried that I compromised too much, that the pain of that place had just cut too deep and that there would be no recovering from that wound. Perhaps it would have been better to have died there a hero than to live here now with this shadow of the past hanging over me.


	3. Chapter 3

Astra and I spent two days with Erin and her mother, Linda. In that time we hunted enough meat to keep the small family fed for a few weeks, and collected enough skins to make a tiny leather dress for Erin. The furs we collected Linda stored for trade. I told her to sell them in the winter, because their value would rise then and she would probably collect enough to buy provisions until spring. I also learned to sleep again. I still woke every few hours from nightmares. I still worried when I woke that our camp was under a barrage attack of infernals.

Though Linda wanted me to stay longer, I felt the need to get back on the road. I could tell that saying goodbye was hard for Erin. She ran and hid near the docks the day I left. Her mother apologized for her, but I thought there was no need.

"I know why she hides from such things," I said. "She's a child. A child has every right to hide from pain. Let her keep her hiding place."

When we were finally on the road, on our way to the Eastvale Logging Camp, I could feel her presence, just a little outside town, watching us. I could have turned to wave, but this was a private piece of pain that she probably didn't even understand yet. I did though. I was a connection to her father. Watching me go had to seem like watching him walk away to war all over again. Astra and I even travelled the same road.

I decided to leave my armor. If I needed it again, I knew exactly where it was hidden. And the fear and bigotry that I ran into in Lakeshire convinced me to take a few precautions. I decided to burn my papers and accommodations. I would probably regret this later, but now it seemed the best thing to do. Anyone who had served there would probably recognize it in my eyes anyway, but it didn't seem wise to keep undeniable proof in my bags. I destroyed anything else that could link me back to the war with the Burning Legion, except for my bow and the strange, glowing bracer. I decided to sand the bow down, cut away all its ornate design work, and paint it to look more like a regular hunting composite bow. When I tested it, I was glad to see it hadn't lost any of its magic properties.

It took two days to reach Eastvale by foot. When Astra and I arrived we found food and lodging. The foreman seemed desperate for me to stay on to help protect the loggers, but home called to me. I missed my sister and brother-in-law, their little boy and girl, and their comfortable little house in Elwynn Forest. I hadn't decided yet if I would look for Alex. It had been four years since I had seen him. I think back on that time. I was such a young girl then. So innocent and naïve. I fell so hard for his rugged features and roguish charms. We left on such bad footing though.

Too many things took hold of our lives too soon in our fledgling relationship. Would there still be a spark between us? I wondered this over as I slept in a straw bed and listened to the sounds of lumberjacks snoring in the bunks around me. I had to smile at the thought. What would he think of me now? My skin darkened by the sun, scarred by my armor and the arcane magics that nearly took my life, was once soft like the silk robes warn by night elf priestesses, but now it was tight and thin. Every muscle and every vein showed. I looked more like an orc woman now than a draenei. I worried that a beautiful human like Alex would find me revolting, or even worse, he wouldn't even recognize me.

Astra and I were able to hire on as guards for a shipment of lumber heading for the Stormwind docks. Most of the five day journey was uneventful, except on the last. That day we were stopped by five men in the road. They wore dark blue leather and cloth armor and concealed their faces with bright red masks. They were armed with old rusty muskets and chipped knives. The trail boss, an old dwarf with a handlebar mustache and dark thinning hair, stood from his wagon and walked to the front cart where he could face the bandits.

There were six large carts pulled by teams of Eastvale horses. These horses were bred for pulling heavy carts and were at least two hands higher than most of the horses humans rode. As the bandits made their threats and demanded that we all hand over our gold and anything else of value, this old man unbridled one of these beastly horses. With an agility I had only seen in the most skilled of rogues, the old dwarf jumped from the ground and onto the lose horse's back. The animal reared up on its hind legs and jumped forward toward the lead bandit. The animal's giant hooves crushed down on the bandit with a sickening crunch. The man died so fast he couldn't even scream. As the horse reared up again for another pounce, one of the thieves fired his old musket. The weapon was in such poor condition that it backfired into his face, taking the man's cheek and right eye completely off his head. He covered his gaping wound and ran into the forest screaming while blood poured over his hand and arm.

The rest of the bandits scattered and ran. Laughing, the old man road his giant steed back to the wagon where Astra and I sat watching.

"Tell me again why I hired you as guard," he asked.

I smiled up at him, slowly stood, stretched my muscles and removed three arrows from my quiver. I knocked them, measured where they needed to rest on the bow, and then pulled the string back tight and pointed it toward the sky. I whispered to the bow what I wanted, and then I said, "This is why you hired me," and I let go. The arrows screamed into the sky, and as they reached their zenith, they seemed to take on a life of their own. They moved in the air like hunting birds of prey, and then dived down in different directions. Like a strange death chorus, the three men screamed out almost simultaneously.

The old man laughed loudly and said, "You're worth every coin, Darlin'!"

It took some time to gather the men's corpses, bridle the horse, and get the train of wagons moving again, but we managed to reach Stormwind by dusk. The logging company had the right connections, because we were able to bypass the regular queue into the city. Angry scowls greeted us as we passed merchants and travellers waiting to enter the city. Among those waiting were obvious veterans of the war, still in their Outland armor, still carrying their Outland weapons. As we neared the main gate, I was asked for my papers. I handed over my work orders drawn up from the logging company.

"Do you have any other papers," the guard asked.

"What sort of papers," I asked in return. "Are these not enough to declare my intentions and purpose?"

He looked me in the eye and I could tell he was suspicious. He pointed to my bow and said, "That weapon. Where did you get it?"

"I made it," I lied. "It's for sale. Would you like to buy it?"

The trail boss jumped from his driver's seat and though he was at least a few feet shorter than the guard, he had an aura about him that demanded respect. He said, "What's the holdup here, son? I got lumber to deliver for the Navy. You want to hold that up?"

The guard showed no disrespect to the dwarf, but said plainly, "How long has this ranger been with your company?"

"We hired her on, oh I'd say about two seasons back," he also lied. "An she's been a fine worker too. Why last year we had a bear wonder into the camp, an' the young miss and her—"

"Okay, sir," the guard said. "I get it."

The guard handed the papers back to me and said, "Just so you're aware. The city is relocating all veterans of the war either back to Outland or to the front lines in Northrend. If you were a veteran of that war and were caught with any armor or weapons on your persons you could be facing a fine and possible arrest. You understand?"

"As you can see," I said. "I'm just a hunter looking to make a little coin. No armor, no weapons."

The trail boss crossed his arms and said, "I do wonder if the Horde treats its returning heroes with such dishonor."

"I don't know, sir," he said. "I'm just following orders."

The guard let us pass. As we crossed through the front gates, under the giant statues that depicted the great warriors and admired men and women of the alliance, the military had constructed temporary holding pens where once great soldiers now sat stripped of their armor and weapons awaiting relocation. I had never seen so many tired faces, slumped shoulders, and defeated eyes. I raised the hood on my cloak, just in case someone I knew might recognize me. I felt like a traitor, but I was now thankful for the treatment I'd received in Lakeshire. My armor was safely buried and my bow was disguised from most eyes. A mage might see its potential, but Outland wasn't the only place to find these types of weapons.

We delivered our lumber and I said my goodbyes to the trail boss. He handed me my pay and told me to watch myself. He also promised that if I ever needed a job, there was one available for me at the company.

"Oh, and I almost forgot," he said. "I would solute you, Darlin', but they might see, so I'll just say, 'thank ya'."

"For what," I asked.

"For what you did there," he said. "I've served myself and I know the horrors. I cannot say I understand why the King's treating you folk this way, but I guess that's the methods of men in power. But a hard boot to the arse for them, I say." He laughed loudly at his own joke, and I laughed with him.

After the trail boss and I said our final goodbyes, I once again walked the streets of Stormwind. It was then that I felt completely detached from everything. Astra stayed close to my side and because I was draenei, I stood a head or two taller than everyone around me, and there were few of my kind in this world, so I had to accept the lingering stares of strangers.

It was when a walked through the long tunnel from the cannels to Old Town that I saw him, and that he saw me. He'd aged more than expected in those few years. His dark curly hair now had a slight hint of gray. He was a little wider around the middle, but not much. He had been in conversation with a gnome and a female night elf, both who seemed to obviously be agents of some type, but when he saw me all his attention went to me. I held my breath as he walked away from his companions and ran toward me. The look on his face was focused, absolutely singular, and he ran to me as though I was his only hope for survival. When he reached me a grabbed me in a tight embrace and actually picked me up off the ground. I laughed, and Astra jumped around us barking and snapping at the air in excitement. He slowly allowed me to slide down his body and met my lips with his. I grabbed the back of his long hair and held his kiss to mine for as long as we could.

"Verda," he said. "Oh, my Verda where have you been?"

Hearing him say my name was all I needed to release a floodgate of tears. All I could say was, "Alex, my sweet Alex, it's been terrible. Take me away from here. Take me somewhere safe."

We kissed again, and then, as though I were in some dream, we found our way to his room above the Pig and Whistle Tavern.

We undressed each other in the glow of the city lights, and though it had been years we moved together like one. I lost myself, once again in Alex's sure and strong arms and when we completed our love making we remained in bed and watched the shadows dance on the ceiling. He asked if I wanted to talk, and I said, "No. I just want to be. Just of a little while, I want to make this time last as long as we can."

He kissed me, and we made love again, and then we slept. I slept through the night; blissfully released of the constant nightmares.

When I woke in the morning to the sounds of blacksmiths hammering out new armor from the dwarf district, Alex was gone. On his nightstand he left me a rose and a note.

_Do not seek me out. It's dangerous for you here. I'll meet you at your sister's home this evening._

Astra was already awake and waiting by the door, whining slightly, I knew he smelled the fresh pork and eggs cooking in the tavern below.

"Well, what do you think, boy," I asked. "A little breakfast before we meet the family?"

He scratched at the door.

After breakfast, we headed out into the city. This was a world that seemed untouched by the war. Vendors kept selling their goods and people continued to buy them. Children ran through the streets teasing each other and grabbing bits of dropped fruit from the under hoof and foot. The strong smell of horse dung was only covered occasionally by the salty fish stench of the ocean blowing in from the docks. Water from the canals was already starting to heat from the sun and the humidity made my clothes stick to me. It reminded me I still owed myself that bath.

It didn't take us long to find the cathedral. We were stopped at the door by Templars. I told them I was there to see my sister. One of them called to a boy, he looked to be about my niece's age. They whispered something to him and he left. When he returned a few minutes later he had brought along Olivia, my beautiful little niece. She smiled and told the Templar she knew me. They stepped aside and let me through.

"We've had to add security since the threat of the Lich King," she said. "His agents are everywhere. It's hard to believe he could have supporters even here in Stormwind, but he does. It's good to see you Aunty Vee."

"You've grown into quite the little young woman, Olivia," I said. "I'm not sure why, but I still expected you to be the little girl who used to bake me mud pies."

"I'm a priest now," she said. "I've still a lot to learn, but Mother says I'm making good progress."

"What about Von," I asked. "What's he doing?"

She shook her head and as we travelled the long corridors she said, "I guess you haven't seen Alex yet."

"Actually, I have," I said. "I arrived in town yesterday."

She looked back at me with a small touch of anger in her eyes and said, "He didn't say anything to you about Von?"

"We didn't talk much," I said.

We arrived at the chamber section where priests engaged in study and meditation. Olivia said, "Mother is just down here. Von is working with Alex now. I'm not sure what they do; it's all a big secret."

It did upset me a bit that Alex had Von working for him. It wasn't a common place for a dreanei find employment. However, after everything I've been through, I wasn't about to cast judgment on my nephew for finding what work he could. He was never very good with either the arcane or the healing arts, which is something that seemed to bring him a lot of shame.

"So he's working as a defender now," I asked.

"Here's her door," she said, and gently knocked. "I'm not entirely sure what he's doing, but Mother thinks he's wasting his potential. Our people have an innate talent for the mental and spiritual arts. He's wasting his time with a sword and shield."

I couldn't help but smile at the words that I could tell were almost an exact echo from her mother's mouth. "And I suppose I waste mine with a bow and wolf, eh?"

She looked away and said, "I'm sorry. I'm afraid self-righteousness is sometimes a byproduct of the job." She gently knocked again and called out to her mother.

An answer finally came and she opened the door to a small chamber. Inside sat a woman behind a desk with books opened all around her. Looking at her was looking into a mirror. Her eyes were like mine, or at least the way they were before the war. I had been told by other draenei that they now held emptiness, a kind of distant sadness. My sister's eyes still held all the love and hope of my people and I had to admit I was a little jealous of her for it.

"Verda," she said.

"Vawn," I answered.

"You're looking well," she said.

"I'm exhausted," I said.

"Well, you'll get a good night's rest and plenty to eat tonight," she said.

"I came for something else," I said. I reached into my saddlebag and removed the wrapped bracer. I placed it on her desk and peeled back the layers of cloth. The object seemed to glow more in the candlelit chamber.

My sister leaned over it and said, "This is remarkable. Where did you get it?"

"From a tower we sacked. Blood elves were experimenting with different types of magic there. I was hoping you and your people could properly destroy it."

"Destroy it," she said. "Why would we do that?"

"Because I think it's dangerous," I said. "I think it's too dangerous to allow anyone to try to use this bracer."

"Well," she said. "It's a kind of shadow magic. We do have a few masters of the shadow path here, I'm sure they would love to examine it. Can I keep it here with me?"

"Of course," I said. "But I would feel a lot more comfortable if I knew you planned to destroy it. I don't trust it. I travelled for a while with it in my packs while in Outland and the whole time I felt like the thing was calling to me."

"Interesting," she said. "I'm sure we'll want to study it first. Armor like this is rare. It would be a shame to destroy something that could be a potential weapon in our fight against Arthas."

I had to agree, despite my misgivings about the object. I left it in my sister's care. I wanted to catch up with her, to maybe see what had been happening in the world since I had been away, but my sister, like our parents, had a tendency to put her work before family. I understood, her work was important, and I had done what I promised. I had delivered the item to her for study. If she felt it was a good idea to keep the item for study, she would know best if it needed to be destroyed. I think that's sometimes the problem with being a hunter. We're used to doing everything alone. Sure, we generally keep hunting companions in the form of animals as a type of pet and compatriot to our outings, but they pretty much do as we will. Working in concert with another person has always been a difficult task for my type. So despite my misgivings, I let my sister handle the situation as she saw fit.

Olivia escorted me to the door and showed a lot of curiosity about the object. I told her all I knew. I assumed she would probably work closely with her mother to determine its value to the Alliance. I now wish I had better recognized that look in her eyes, because it wasn't simply curiosity, but hunger. If I had known at that moment, what I understood now, I would have destroyed that bracer any way possible.


End file.
